


After

by endgirl



Category: Grey's Anatomy
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Past Character Death, Post-Season/Series Finale, Season/Series 11
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-17
Updated: 2015-05-17
Packaged: 2018-03-30 21:52:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3953110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/endgirl/pseuds/endgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Owen and Amelia talk about family--past, possible, and future.</p>
            </blockquote>





	After

Owen and Amelia sat side by side in folding chairs on the trailer porch. Dusk had settled in hours ago, and then the moon, but neither made any move to get up.

"I'll miss the lights," Owen said, looking up at the string of bulbs that hung from the awning over their heads. The lights twinkled in the drizzle, casting reflections on the trailer behind him.

Amelia’s lips quirked. “I doubt those are part of the sale. Take them with you.” She sank back in her chair, staring out into the trees. She pulled Owen’s borrowed sweatshirt more tightly around her middle. “I’ll miss the crickets.”

Owen laughed. “You hate the crickets.” She had complained about their deafening chirps more times than he could count, including earlier that evening when they’d first sat down to watch the sunset with now-empty plates of carbonara.

“I really do.” Amelia tugged one sleeve over her hand. Her voice grew softer. “But it’s still hard to say goodbye, you know?”

Owen stared at the glass of sparkling water in his hand. “Yeah,” he managed to force out. “I know.”

It was their last night at Derek’s house. Amelia's last night in the dream world her brother had built for his family. In the morning, the new buyer took ownership. Meredith and the kids were gone. The house was dark, empty, barely visible through the trees—as if it were already at rest, waiting patiently for Owen and Amelia to catch up.

In the weeks since Richard’s wedding, Owen had asked Amelia a dozen times if she was sure she didn’t want to buy the house from Meredith. He knew she could afford it; he had once approved her payslips, after all. Each time, Amelia had shaken her head, her eyes still alit with mourning—but with determination, too.

 _I have to start over_ , Amelia had said the first time he’d asked, after a particularly rough day treating one of Derek’s former patients.

Her words had made Owen’s chest seize with fear.

 _I mean, not from scratch_ , she’d gone on, fidgeting with her scrubs in the attendings’ lounge. She sounded as nervous and uncertain as he felt. _Not with everything._

She had kissed him then—at first hesitantly, questioningly—and then with all the passion and longing they had so desperately tried to keep at bay. And Owen had kissed her back—that day, and every day since.

Owen tipped his glass back against his lips, then set it on the porch beside their dinner plates. “I’ll miss you coming knocking at all hours of the night,” he said, cracking a smile.

He had gotten used to Amelia living just on the other side of the trees. He would be renting a real apartment now, a two-bedroom that Kepner had helped him choose in her flurry to stay busy after whatever had happened between her and Avery. Amelia would be staying with Meredith at Ellis Grey’s old house until she decided what was next. It was only a few blocks from Owen’s new place, but it already felt too far.

Amelia grinned back. “I can still come knocking at the new apartment. I can even do it at exclusively inappropriate times. Just wait, you’ll be sorry you said that.”

His eyes pierced hers, suddenly more serious than he'd intended. “Impossible.”

She blushed in that way that only Amelia could, equal parts cocky and unsure. “Possible,” she corrected.

“Don’t make me fight you on this,” he said, only half kidding. “I was in the army.”

Amelia looked down at her hands, suddenly frowning. “Yeah,” she murmured.

The mood had shifted from playful to somber. “Hey,” Owen said softly, reaching out to run a hand over her knee. “I was just being stupid.”

“You mean now, or when you went back to war?” She had meant to snap, he could tell, but her voice wavered. Owen felt every quiver like a scalpel to his flesh.

They had talked about this before. She had admitted, haltingly, how abandoned she had felt during the months he’d returned to service. How afraid. He had told her how hurt he had been when she’d shut him out and given up. The both had vowed to spend the rest of their relationship finding a way to make amends.

What they hadn’t talked about was exactly what that relationship _was_. Every time Owen tried to bring it up, he lost his nerve. Each time Amelia looked as if she wanted to have the capital-T _talk_ , she steered the conversation to a patient, or made a joke, or asked Owen what color he was going to paint his new kitchen. They were both so battered, so bruised. It was sometimes difficult for Owen to believe they could ever find happiness.

And yet, they kept finding it. In fingers laced together in the parking lot. In rushed, electric conversations outside ORs. In the trailer at night—and sometimes during the day, too.

For the last little while, though, Amelia had seemed distracted. Nervous. At first Owen had thought it was the impending sale of Derek’s house that had her staring into space during budget meetings, or jumping when he came up behind her while they cooked dinner. Now he was beginning to think it was something else. Something more.

“Both,” Owen said. It was difficult to keep his voice steady. “I’ll never forgive myself for leaving when I did. I—”

“I was late.”

Her non-sequitur shook Owen out of the dark spiral his mind had begun to wander down. “What for?” He tried to remember the surgeries she’d had that day. If any had gone off schedule.

“Last April, after you left,” Amelia went on, like he hadn’t said anything. She spoke quickly, detachedly, as if they were reviewing a case they were both were ready to close. “I took a test—”

Sudden, disjointed thoughts crashed through Owen’s mind. “Oh my god.”

Amelia still didn’t look at him. She didn’t seem able to. Instead she sat forward, curling in on herself. “Just one of those home ones.” Her voice shook, but didn’t break. “It was positive.”

“Amelia,” Owen whispered, eyes wide. He didn’t seem to have room for all the feelings that were waging war inside of him. Shock came first, followed by blind joy. And then a deep hollowness, as his heart caught up to his brain.

 _Was_ late.

 _Last_ April.

He reached for her, but Amelia gave a sharp shake of her head, as if she wouldn’t be able to go on if he touched her.

“But I…” She cleared her throat. “I didn’t go see Robbins for a while. A few weeks. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know what she’d find, you know? Considering last time.” Amelia cracked a smile like she’d told a good joke, but her eyes were haunted.

“’Melia—”

“She took blood, ran labs. But they came back negative.”

Owen's brows knit together in confusion. “So—”

Amelia nodded. “So either the first test was a false positive, or I… I miscarried between then and when I saw Robbins.”

He pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes. “God, I’m...” What? What was he? What could he possibly say that would in any way rectify what she’d had to face? _Alone_. Alone because of him. “I’m sorry, Amelia. I’m so sorry.” His voice split. “I should have been here.”

Amelia shrugged. It was a tiny, defeated movement, and it made Owen’s heart break. She glanced up at the night sky, wiping surreptitiously at the corners of her eyes. “It’s fine,” she said, forcing a smile. “Really. No big deal. I probably wasn’t pregnant. False positives come up all the time.”

Owen couldn’t stop himself any longer. He reached for her hand and gripped it like a lifeline. Her fingers were trembling, he realized. So were his. “Robbins couldn’t tell?”

“I—” She swallowed audibly, her gaze fixed on their joined hands. “I didn’t get an exam. I didn’t want to know. It was so soon after Derek, and after…”

He heard the unspoken words. _After you left_.

“I didn’t…” Amelia’s voice broke. “I didn’t think I could survive it. Knowing I’d lost someone else.” A sob escaped her lips, seemingly without permission.

Holding back tears of his own, Owen pulled Amelia from her chair and into his lap. He wrapped his arms around her as she shook. “Hey,” he choked out, “you survived. You’re surviving. We are. We’re going to.”

Her tears were soaking through his shirt, burning his skin. “Owen.”

He felt helpless. Crushed. “I’m here now,” he murmured. He rocked them back and forth, his face buried in her hair. “I’ve got you.”

They sat together for a long time, rocking. With nothing but the sound of crickets and rain and tears to fill the air, until Owen could no longer make out whose were whose. They rocked until, at last, Amelia took a deep, shaking breath. She let it out in a rush, as if it might expel some of the anguish.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Owen whispered, when her breathing had steadied. When he could finally trust his voice. It wasn’t an accusation—he just wanted so badly for her to know that she could have come to him. Could always come to him.

“Not really the kinda thing you announce to a whole platoon, you know?” Amelia said hoarsely, a forced jesting in her tone. She used her sleeve to wipe her cheek—the one not pressed to his chest. She gave a watery laugh. “‘Guess what, boys. Major Hunt was a dad. Or not.’”

Owen pressed his lips to her hair, squeezing his eyes shut.

“After you came back, I didn’t know how to tell you,” she admitted. “There was probably nothing to tell, anyway.”

“Amelia—”

“I just.” She sat up straighter, still in Owen’s lap but no longer curled in his arms. Her eyes bored into the deck. “I thought you deserved to know. Before we make any decisions.”

Owen felt a chill where Amelia had been pressed to his body. He waited for her to go on, but she stayed silent for long minutes.

“I might be broken,” she said at last. The raw pain in her words cut Owen to the bone. “I mean, more than we already knew.”

“No,” he said, more forcefully than he’d planned. He pulled her back to his chest, his arms wrapped around her as if he could shield her from the world. From her demons. From her own self-doubt. He couldn’t; he knew that.

But he could help.

“No,” he said again, more softly this time. “You’re not broken. Bent, maybe. Bruised, yeah. So am I. But not broken, Amelia. Never that.”

“I know… I know you want…” She trailed off, tears thickening her voice again. “And I might… I might not be able to…”

“You don’t know that," he said gently. "Think of what Robbins would say.”

“‘Healthy babies follow sick ones all the time,’” she quoted. The glimmer of hope in her voice nearly overshadowed the sorrow—nearly. “But—”

“There’s more than one way to have a family, Amelia.” Owen shifted so that he could look into her eyes. He tucked a damp strand of hair behind her ear, his fingertips trailing on her cheek. “You’re the important part. We are. The rest we can figure out as we go.” Despite himself, his own demons reared their heads. His own doubts. “I mean, if— if that’s what you want. I know we haven’t really…” He cleared his throat. “Only if you—”

“I want,” she interrupted, her blue eyes shining but clear. “I want all of it, one day. With you.”

Owen covered Amelia’s lips with his own. He kissed her with as much devotion as had ever coursed through his veins—with as much passion—with as much love, yet unspoken, that had ever beat in his heart.

And Amelia kissed him back. That night, and every night after.

 

 

 


End file.
